


Though Lovers Be Lost

by Center_of_the_Galaxy



Series: Aren't You A Sight For Sore Eyes? [3]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Grief, Mary Jane Knows Kingpin Killed Her Husband, Mary Jane Misses Her Husband, Peter B. Parker Is A Self-Sacrificing Idiot, Peter B. Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Is Dead, So Does Mary Jane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 07:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17402480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Center_of_the_Galaxy/pseuds/Center_of_the_Galaxy
Summary: She’s a widow at 27. Her life is over. Yet, she’s still here. Living almost feels like a farce and she wonders if she’ll wake up tomorrow and this will all be a bad dream. But it’s not a dream and Peter is gone and how can she go on without him?“Uh, Mrs. Parker?”She wipes an errant tear away and turns, facing that waiter who made such a big deal over the bread. She blinks at him oddly, wondering why it feels like she knows him from somewhere.“Oh,” She mutters softly, “Did you bring the bread?”





	Though Lovers Be Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Let's set this shortly after the bread scene, but before Miles shows up to save the day. I just wanted to expand on this moment. Also, I figure that MJ had to know that Kingpin was up to something. I mean, Peter would've told her about his evil intentions. Anyways, enjoy!

           

_“I know that's what people say—you'll get over it. I'd say it, too. But I know it's not true. Oh, you’ll be happy again, never fear. But you won't forget. Every time you fall in love it will be because something in the man reminds you of him.”  
― Betty Smith_

 

            Kingpin must think she’s an idiot.

            As if she’s not aware that he’s the one responsible for her husband’s death. She knows all too well that she’s at memorial for her husband being held in his murderer’s penthouse. She has to keep a polite smile on her lips even though all she really wants to do is take that microphone and bludgeon Kingpin over and over until he’s suffered as much as he made Peter suffer. She wants to avenge him, wants to inflict as much pain on his adversaries as she feels in her heart. She’s heartbroken and she doesn’t even know how she’s breathing right now, let alone making polite small talk in a room full of well-wishers.

            But at the end of the day, Peter is dead and he’s not coming back. He won’t be there to hold her in his arms, he won’t press a kiss to her forehead in the morning when he gets back from patrol, and he won’t ever say, “I love you, MJ”. All she has left is a tombstone and her memories.

            “I really am sorry for your loss,” Someone tells her, “I loved Spider-Man.”

            “Thank you,” Mary-Jane whispers demurely, “Would you excuse me?”

            The room feels oppressive, too many people, too many waiters in Spider-Man costumes and she needs some air. She’s glad that May isn’t here—the last thing Peter’s aunt would’ve tolerated was this farce of a memorial, but someone had to play along with Kingpin’s game and May had insisted on it, though she wouldn’t exactly explain why. Crossing the room, she goes onto the balcony, the cool night air hitting her face. The stars twinkle above her and the city lights illuminate the tiny blips of cars below her.

            Leaning out on the balcony, Mary Jane allows herself to exhale, letting some of the tension out of her body. She’s had to be strong for what feels like an eternity and it’s only a matter of time before her body gives out and she lets the grief consume her. How is she supposed to do life without Peter by her side? Peter was supposed to be forever, her endgame, her forever. Without Peter, she doesn’t know how to keep going on. She doesn’t know how she can return to their apartment and sleep on their bed, surrounded by a closet full of clothes that smell like him. She doesn’t even know why her heart is beating when it lies buried under six feet of snow in a distant church yard.

            She’s a widow at 27. Her life is over. Yet, she’s still here. Living almost feels like a farce and she wonders if she’ll wake up tomorrow and this will all be a bad dream. But it’s not a dream and Peter is gone and how can she go on without him—

            “Uh, Mrs. Parker?”

            She wipes an errant tear away and turns, facing that waiter who made such a big deal over the bread. She blinks at him oddly, wondering why it feels like she knows him from somewhere.

            “Oh,” She mutters softly, “Did you bring the bread?”

            He huffs out a dry laugh, “Yeah. My friend is on it.”

            She nods, remembering the woman in the white Spider-Woman outfit. She had never seen that type of suit before, but as Peter had often told her, anyone could wear the suit.

            “Is there something you need?” She’s tired and her feet hurt in these heels after wearing them all day. Peter used to tease her about her obsession with heels, always asking her—

            “Why would you wear those shoes all day?” The Spider-Man before her points to her black four inch heels.  

            It’s like a punch to the gut. For a few seconds, she can’t breathe. Because, out of all the things to say, this stranger said the one thing that Peter would say. It’s just a coincidence, just a crazy random happenstance—

            “Peter?” She finds herself leaning forward, reaching a hand out toward the stranger’s face before he jerks back. That knocks some sense into her. This isn’t her Peter. Her Peter is dead and gone and he’s never coming back—

            “Mary Jane,” He mutters a curse under his breath before he pulls off his mask, “I had to see you before I left.”

            She can’t breathe. Time stops outside on that balcony because she knows that face, though it’s older than Peter and he has brown hair instead of her Peter’s blonde. But she knows that face better than anything and she knows that this is Peter before her. She doesn’t know how or why, but Peter is standing before her once more.

            “But . . .”

            “I don’t have a lot of time,” Peter confesses quietly, “But I’m from a different dimension. And in my dimension, you and I got divorced.”

            Mary Jane nods her head, trying to keep up with this deluge of information. She can’t believe this is going on, but it also doesn’t sound so far-fetched either. Peter told her about research done explaining the theory of parallel dimensions being made with every choice not taken.

            “Why are you telling me this?” She whispers, trying to keep breathing. She wants to cry, but she also wants to embrace him and never let go. Even if he’s not her Peter, he’s alive and her heart aches for him.

            “Because I had to see you one more time,” He admits, “Because I’m a selfish bastard and I know it won’t change anything in my dimension, but I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

            “You talk like you’re never going to see me again.”

            His downcast gaze is all the confirmation she needs.

            “Peter,” She grabs his hand within hers tightly, “What are you doing?”

            “MJ—”

            “Peter, tell me.”

            “If I stay in this dimension, I’ll die,” He states softly, “But I have to stay to turn off Kingpin’s machine. I’m sorry, I should go but—”

            “So,” She feels a tear rolling down her cheek, but bitterness colors her words, “I’m going to lose you. Again.”

            He smiles bitterly, “You already lost me, MJ. We got divorced a year ago. I haven’t seen you—”

            “But you can fix things!” Mary Jane protests, “We could have a shot! You can’t just give up! You can’t die—!”

            She’s openly sobbing now, her knees buckling as she sinks down to the ground, Peter following suit.

            “Shit, MJ, I’m sorry,” He mutters, rubbing circles on her back, just like her Peter used to do, “Please don’t cry. Please, don’t. I’m sorry.”

            “You can’t die. Not again,” She grips his hand fiercely, “You go back and you fix things. We don’t run from our problems. I don’t know what could’ve happen but that MJ—I know she wants you by her side.”

            “MJ.”

            “Please.”

            Peter nods slowly and she rewards him with a small grin. Slowly, they get up, his arm steadying her. MJ wipes her eyes, trying to compose herself. She’s sure her face is a red as a tomato, but Peter grins.

            “I’m sorry.” Peter tells her.

            “It’s okay.”

            There’s silence and a million questions swirl in her head. But she knows that she can’t ask them. This isn’t her Peter. He doesn’t belong here. And at the end of the day, she’s still a widow drowning in grief.

            “So, you should go, right? Save the world?”

            “Probably.”

            She leans against the railing, letting the cold wind ground her in her moment.

            “Peter?”

            “Yeah, MJ?”

            “When you get back,” She thinks about all the things she wishes that she’d said to Peter, “Don’t let her go.”

            “I won’t.” It’s a vow. He pulls his mask back on and she knows that their time is up. He swings away and she’s lost another Peter. But still, there’s a strange sort of comfort in knowing that he lives on somewhere else, even if it’s not with her. Somewhere, in some different New York, there’s still a Peter and an MJ out there, living out their dreams.  

            Her heart may be broken, but one day it will mend. Though she’ll never be the same and she’ll never really love another like she loved Peter, at least Spider-Man lives on.

            “Mrs. Parker? They’re ready for your speech.” One of Kingpin’s workers gestures for her to come back inside.

            “I’ll be right there.”

            “Take your time.”

            She faces the city once more and smiles.

            “Bye, Peter.”

            And then she goes back inside, leaving some of her grief behind.     


End file.
